


There But For (Go I)

by wickedthoughts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e11 First Born, First Time, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Medical Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedthoughts/pseuds/wickedthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This extraction of angelic grace is a very different procedure than the one in the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There But For (Go I)

**Author's Note:**

> For an awesome spnkink-meme prompt*
> 
> Originally posted on my LJ.
> 
> Previous Sam/Amelia mentioned. The Dub-Con warning is for reluctance in Sam's mind. He gives Castiel verbal consent for everything.

* * *

 

He has to do this, Sam keeps reminding himself. To find Gadreel and make him pay for Kevin. So here he is; Wearing only a thin cotton T-shirt, nothing below the waist, and flat on his back on an exam table. Bare ass pressed into the vinyl upholstery, bent legs spread, and feet locked into raised stirrups. His long arms are limp at his sides, but his fists are clenched. He’s nervous, shaking. He wants Castiel to start this ordeal already. At the same time, he’s dreading that first touch.

Castiel is prepping something on a table, his back to Sam. As Sam waits he comes to a new hypothesis about God. Dean, and Cas ostensibly, think of Him as an absentee father. Selfish, but not sadistic. Right now, Sam has to disagree. This is ridiculous. What kind of divine order is this? This is pure humiliation. As if Sam hasn’t lost enough of his bodily autonomy in the past nine years-

The sound of latex snapping makes Sam shiver. Castiel turns to him, a bottle of lube grasped in his white-gloved hands. The tan trench coat is already slung over a chair in the corner, and the angel’s shirt sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. The sight is deeply intimidating.

“Are you ready, Sam?”

Castiel’s tone is collected. Like he’s asking Sam the time of day. He’d make a decent doctor Sam thinks idly as he swallows and nods.

“I need your verbal consent.”

Sam says “Yes,” automatically. Castiel moves to stand between Sam’s spread legs. Sam’s fists clench tighter, jagged fingernails digging into calloused palms. His top half is unrestrained, his stubborn will the only thing that stops him from raising his torso and unbuckling himself from this undignified position. Castiel flips the lube’s plastic cap open and squirts a generous amount into his right hand.

“I’ll explain everything I’m doing before I do it, Sam. If, at any time, you wish me to stop, just say ‘Stop.’ Do you understand?”

He’s looking Sam in the eyes throughout his speech. That manages to make it even more uncomfortable.

“Sam?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

“Good. I’ll start by taking your penis in my right hand and moving up and down along the shaft until you achieve erection.”

If ever there was a boner-killing statement, that was it. He should record Cas saying that, sell it billed as the “Anti-Viagra.” Sam coughs and sputters. He’s sure his face has turned bright red. His fists tighten further.

“O-okay.”

“It will work better if you relax, Sam.”

Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen.

Castiel does exactly what he’d explained he would. The lube is warm and it feels nice even with the strange sensation of the latex. Sam remains soft, however. He can’t find this erotic at all. This is Cas, for fuck’s sake. An angel, a male angel and one of his best friends, is jacking him off in the Men of Letter’s infirmary because for some godforsaken reason the only way to extract the remnants of angelic grace from a vessel is if said vessel ejaculates it out.

Clearly God is a sadist.

Sam isn’t aware of how much time has passed- Ten minutes? Twenty? More? Castiel is working diligently, accentuating his strokes with clinical admonitions for Sam to relax. But Sam’s still soft, and he can sense that Castiel is getting frustrated.

“Cas, stop.”

Castiel stops immediately, removing his hand from between Sam's legs. Sam grimaces apologetically.

“It’s not gonna work Cas, I’m sorry. I- I’ve never had a guy do that before and- and it’s just not gonna work, okay?”

“I’ll make it work.”

Castiel has determination in his voice. Proud obstinacy is etched in every line on his borrowed face. He’s an honorary Winchester to the core, Sam reflects, and he’s suddenly afraid that Cas will keep going even without Sam’s consent. Castiel sees Sam’s fear. Both his face and his tone soften.

“Do you really want to stop?”

“No,” Sam admits. It’s true, he wants this to work. As awkward as it is and as undignified as he feels, he needs it to work. He needs to take this awful thing that’s happened to him, this violation by both Gadreel and Dean, and make it worth something.

“Alright,” Cas sighs. “Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Is this too- too formal? Would you prefer a more intimate approach?”

“Uh, what?”

Sam’s face is burning so brightly he figures he could fry an egg on it. His fingers threaten to pierce straight through his palms and out the backs of his hands.

“Well,” Castiel plows on, seemingly unaware that this is something by which most humans would be embarrassed. “We could move to your bedroom. Find you some porn or toys. And I can alter my voice, you know. I can sound like anyone you want, if that would help.”

“Oh god, no.”

As strange as a medically induced orgasm is, it’s far preferable to anything Castiel is suggesting now. With the sterility of the setting, the formality of Castiel’s methodical procedure, there’s a much better chance he’ll be able to look his friend in the eye again once this is over. If he dwells too long on the image of Cas speaking to him with a woman’s voice, pumping Sam’s cock while Sam leans back on his bed with his eyes closed thinking of some generic porn actress-

Well, if he dwells too long on _that_ he may never be able to get hard again under any circumstance.

“Do you want to continue what we’re doing here?”

“Yes.”

The angel reapplies the lube to his gloved right hand.

“I’ll do what I was doing before,” Castiel informs Sam. “But I’ll add some different, uh, techniques I’ve picked up. I’ll let you know what I’m doing before I do it. Please try and relax. On three?”

“Okay,” Sam gulps and tenses, waiting for Castiel’s touch. After the countdown, he’s enveloped once again in warm wetness. Cas must be using his mojo to heat the lube, and Sam is grateful. Grateful, but still soft.

“I’m going to use my left hand to stimulate your testicles now, alright Sam?”

“Y-yeah.”

Wherever Cas had picked up these techniques, he’d learned well. It’s almost surreal, feeling the latex-covered hand cup his balls and fondle them lightly. Without missing a stroke on Sam’s flaccidity, Castiel rolls his balls. He squeezes each one gently, so gently, like he’s handling a Fabergé egg. He runs a finger between them and traces circles in the thin, velvety skin covering the sensitive organs. It’s starting to feel good. Sam closes his eyes and feels the first twinge of arousal. But as soon as he acknowledges his desire, it disappears. He blinks his eyes open as Castiel makes a deep, humming noise of interest.

“Hmm, I think we were on to something there.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’m going to remove my right hand from your penis and use it to stimulate your perineum, agreed?”

“Yes.”

Continuing to play with Sam’s balls, Castiel caresses the little raised line behind them. It scares Sam how good it feels. So damn good. He hasn’t had someone touch him like this since- since Amelia. Since he left her, he’s just infrequently jerked off in the shower. With startling clarity, Sam realizes that he’s been sabotaging himself. He’s not allowing himself to enjoy this. As strange as this feels mentally, it’s amazing physically and it’s been such a long time. It doesn’t matter that it’s Cas doing it, this is the best handjob he’s ever had. He needs to stop focusing on his confusion and his embarrassment. On the mission and its end goal. What he needs to do is focus on how good this is and how badly he wants it. His fists slacken and his body finally relaxes. Castiel notices.

“Sam?”

“ ‘s good, Cas. Keep going.”

Up and down, over and over, Castiel strokes Sam’s taint. He softly presses his fingernails into the skin covering Sam’s balls, gently scratches them as best he can with the gloves. Sam groans quietly and his cock twitches as it begins to fill with blood. Castiel encourages him.

“Good, Sam. Very good. And don't worry, that's a completely normal physical response to this type of stimulation.”

Sam has to smile and roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“I’m going to bring my right hand back to your penis.”

“Yes,” Sam pants. “Please.”

Castiel halts his ministrations to replenish the lube in his right hand. When he encircles Sam’s swelling cock this time, Sam allows himself to appreciate it. Cas fingers the engorged flesh of his glans, traces the circumcision scar. Up and down, over and over. He swirls his fingertips over Sam’s balls, combs through the thick hair surrounding them. Sam is thrusting up into his hand, hips flexing and stirruped thighs straining.

“You’re doing so well, Sam. I’ll be able to start the extraction ritual very soon.”

And- fuck. Cas’ words, his rumbling voice, are doing it for him. Sam’s not going to think about that right now. He’s also not going to try and process the meaning of Cas’ statement. This feels too fucking wonderful. He’s so close, dripping precome, just at that threshold where all his thoughts and energy are laser focused on coming. Two or three good strokes should do it-

Castiel gives him two, then stops and lets go of Sam.

“Cas- ?” Sam complains, nearly panicking as he humps at the air. “C’mon, you can’t just- you gotta- ”

Castiel begins to chant. In his frustrated daze, it takes Sam a few moments to recognize the melodic language as Enochian. It really is a beautiful language, especially from the tongue of a native speaker. Too bad Sam’s not in the proper state of mind to fully appreciate it. Castiel finishes his ritual quickly and pulls a glass vial from thin air.

“I’m sorry, Sam. The ritual had to be performed just prior to ejaculation. I’m going to bring you to orgasm now, if that’s alright?”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, please do it!”

It’s a mercy when Cas’ hand returns to Sam’s needy tumescence and it’s a blessing when he brings Sam to completion in three deft strokes. Sam’s hips are practically slamming into the table with the force of his thrusts and he grunts out his release in deep satisfaction. Castiel has positioned the vial so it catches all of Sam’s thick seed as the angel continues to pump it out of him. Sam had thought that maybe his come would be different, glow or something, but it looks the same as it ever did. There is quite a lot of it, though. Sam supposes that could be a matter of how long it’s been since he last did this. He collapses on the table, awash in ecstatic relief.

When Castiel finishes collecting every last drop he stoppers the vial and walks to the table, carefully placing it on a metal tray. Latex snaps again as his gloves come off and the metal trash can lid clangs as they’re deposited inside. He turns back to Sam with a smile.

“You did very well, Sam. Thank you for your help.”

He approaches Sam’s flushed face and brings two fingers to Sam’s forehead. Sam is by now used to the rush of healing they bring, but he finds himself enjoying the innervating sensation even more this time.

“No, uh, thank _you._ ”

Sam really has no idea what to say and the reality of what just happened comes crashing back to him. Cas smiles again.

“It was nothing.”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Great.”

Castiel unstraps his feet and helps him sit up on the table. He hands Sam his jeans and boxers, turning away as Sam rises shakily and dresses. As if he hadn’t just seen the entirety of Sam’s lower half. As if he hadn’t touched Sam so intimately, pleasured him so completely-

Oh god. Oh fuck.

When Castiel hears the zip of Sam’s fly he looks back at him. Cas, at least, isn’t going to be awkward about this. That makes one of us, Sam thinks grimly.

“I’m gonna get to work on the spell to find Gadreel.”

He gestures unnecessarily at the vial of Sam’s essence on the table.

“Okay, sounds good. I think I’m gonna go eat something and take a nap.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Castiel’s eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Yeah, so-”

Sam turns to leave, his mind a whirl of thoughts. Later. He’ll process all this later. Right now, food and sleep. Wonderful, mind-obscuring sleep.

“Sam,” Castiel’s voice halts him at the infirmary door. Sam doesn’t look at him.

“Uh-huh?”

“If you ever need- if you ever _want_ me to do that again. Anytime.”

He should shut this down right the fuck now. This is so new, so different, he can’t even think right now. So why is he turning to look at Cas? Why is he smiling in gratitude at the fallen angel? What does this _mean?_

“Thanks, Cas. Really. Thanks.”

Sam leaves, feeling better than he’s felt in years, the swinging infirmary doors banging closed behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> *Cas needs to extract Gadreel's grace from Sam. But the grace can only come out with the human's live-giving seed, so it involves a lot more fingering and stimulation of Sam's cock than we saw in the episode. Sam is on the table with his feet in stirrups, shivering and trying not to get hard or panic, while Cas is speaking very calmly and telling him to relax and 'don't worry, that's a completely normal physical response' etc. ([x](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/86610.html?thread=33293906#t33293906))


End file.
